


Ain't That A Kick In The Pants

by AwayLaughing



Category: Andromeda Six (Visual Novel)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Between Episodes, Clothing, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22471483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwayLaughing/pseuds/AwayLaughing
Summary: Just about the only person on the Andromeda 6 Pascha wants to avoid is its Captain. Sadly, he's the first person she finds while on her Very Serious Mission. Which admittedly, seems to be exactly her sort of luck.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Ain't That A Kick In The Pants

Pascha poked her head out of into the hall and waited for someone to yell at her. When that did not come to pass, she dared to leave entirely, looking around. Still no wayward Captains or Damons or Ryonas appeared to threaten her. Slightly buoyed, she turned on her heel, squaring her shoulders.

Since they weren't coming to her, she was going to have to go them.

Ryona – subtle threats about tying Pascha to the bed aside – was probably the best bet for what she needed. Or Bash, but only because he was the only other one she figured she could definitely find. Well no, the only one she could reliably find and actually wanted to. If she could, she planned steer clear of the Captain until it was no longer an option. Not just because she had no desire to be called useless and accused of treason, but presumably he did not actually like yelling. They'd be happier apart, surely.

Which was probably why she turned the corner to Ryona’s rooms – and of course there was Captain Calderon exiting the infirmary. For a short moment she hoped she was so far below his line of sight as to be completely unnoticed. But Pascha was an amnesiac on a ship with a hostile Captain and a maybe-assassin with a questionable sense of humour. Luck was clearly not her strong suit.

“Hello Captain,” she said as his disapproving gaze landed on her. He stared at her a moment, first her face and then dropping down, and she shifted nervously, acutely aware of her current condition. Thankfully the painfully thorough surveillance didn't last long before blue eyes snapped up to her face.

“What are you doing here?”

“I needed to speak to Ryona,” she said, fighting not make it sound like a question. His frown deepened. Pascha idly wondered if it was true your face could stick in an expression – and where had she heard that?

“Are you injured?” he asked.

“I mean other than the amnesia inducing head injury I’m much better,” she said. The hint of amusement on his expression might have been hope on her part.

“So you need Ryona for what exactly?”

“I wanted to see if she had sewing supplies – for clothes not people,” Pascha said. “June brought my clothes back last night um – thank you to whoever tried to wash them by the way – I told June already and I’m sure he told them already...” she trailed off, acutely aware she was rambling. “But er, I’d like to fix the tears myself.”

“Can you?” he asked. It occurred to her all he’d done was ask questions so far, but she supposed it was his ship and better than yelling at her about intergalactic politics she didn’t understand.

Which, note to self: find reading materials on the current political climate.

“I think so,” she said. “Or, I got the sense I can anyway. I think I need yarn to fix the sweater but it’s not as urgent as the pants.” She looked down as she said. She was nearly a head shorter than the shortest crew members, which meant she did not actually fit into...well anything they owned. Someone, she suspected June, had donated a very large shirt to her cause. It was now serving as a mini-dress of sorts. "You've probably noticed."

This time, the Captain definitely looked more amused, and she couldn’t help but beam back.

“Go to your room, stowaway,” he said, and her smile dimmed. He continued, “I will have someone send you a needle and thread.”

“Oh, thank you Captain,” she said.

He nodded, and she turned to head back to her room, but she stopped at the sound of his voice.

“Stowaway?”

_I have a name_ , she wanted to say, but instead turned enough to look at him, "yessir?"

“I apologize about yesterday,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I should not have been so quick to throw you off the ship.”

“Oh,” Pascha, who had not been anticipating a cease in hostilities let alone an apology, said. “Well that’s okay!” she said, despite being so far from okay it had kept her up all night.

The Captain shook his head, “no, it’s not. Don’t worry any further about what I said.”

“Alright,” Pascha, who was absolutely going to keep worry because what did that even mean, said. Was he letting her stay? Was he just going to find her a job first? “But um, Captain?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Did June speak to you because he said he had some favours to use and really I think he should keep them to himself,” she said. She already owed him for saving her life, and possibly his shirt. The idea of him using a favour on her made her throat all funny.

The Captain just managed to raise his eyebrows more, lips pursed. “Rest assured, June’s favours remain his own,” he said.

“Oh, well, good!” she smiled up at him. “Thank you Captain!” She waited for his nod before turning, this time hustling in case he decided he had _more_ he wanted to say. Sliding into her little room, she collapsed on her back, taking several deep breaths.

“Well that went better than I thought,” she told her ceiling. Predictably, it didn’t respond. “He’s still terrifying,” she added. Five minutes - and thankfully still no responses - later there was a knock on the door. Opening the door however, she found no one, looking up and down the hallway. Looking down she found Calderon was true to his word though; there was a spool of dark blue thread and a series of needles stuck into a little tomato, seated at her feet.

Smiling, she picked it up, wondering who owned it. Damon’s face flashed in her mind and she snickered at the thought of the capricious man owning a tomato shaped pin cushion. A human shaped one, maybe.

“Thank you!” she called down the hall in case the courier was either still around or the ship had really good acoustics. Turning, she settled at the desk.

  
Time to acquire some pants that fit.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah I've got nothing. Pascha just needs pants and is too tiny to borrow any.


End file.
